Page:Comin' Thro' the Rye (1898).djvu/30

22 comfortable, when from the verandah issue two black figures. Can it be?—Yes, it is Skippy and the governor! Is the wine corked, or have their stories run dry? I am too close to them to escape; not so, however, the rest, who vanish round corners, behind trees, over palings, anywhere, and the garden, that a moment ago was full, is now empty.

Papa's approach may usually be known by the flight of everybody else in an opposite direction; and I think he has a vague suspicion of the fact, for he looks about him sharply, as he approaches. Jack, lucky fellow, has hidden himself in the rabbit-hutch, and from a well-known loophole, I see his eye fixed upon me with a mixture of pity and self-gratulation. I have pulled my hat straight, set my feet in the first position, and am doing my utmost to look modest, sabbatical, and cool. The last is the most difficult of all, and papa stops short and surveys me with the admiration that any new or particularly startling phase of my ugliness always evokes from him.

"What a mawk!" he says contemptuously, "can't you keep your mouth shut?"

I close it with a snap and a rebellious glance that he is about to call me to account for, when an unwary fry, venturing into the open, attracts his attention, and away he goes like a shot; horribly active is he, as any one can aver to whom he has given chase. I heave a deep sigh of relief, and turn away to make good my escape, when Mr. Skipworth lays a fat and detaining hand on my arm, and in an unctuous voice bids me sit down. He has got me into the seat, and wedged me in with his overflowing body before I get my breath back and recognise the fact that I am in for a sermon, and that he will presently come back and finish me off. I cast a despairing glance at Jack, who is close prisoner as well as I, but oh! the rabbits won't stand up on their hind legs and preach him a sermon.